Текст книги "Scorched"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 21

Tanner

I stared at my phone, not paying attention to the hum of conversation buzzing around me. There was a game on the TV, and one of the guys was talking about some girl he’d met over the weekend.

I hadn’t heard from Andrea since we’d gotten back, and damn, it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to call her. The fact I had to fight it so hard sort of ticked me off, but I’d done a lot of thinking over the last three days, and that I had to resist calling her spoke volumes.

I cared about her—really cared about her.

What I felt for her went beyond what I’d felt for other girls that had been in my life. Even before the trip to the cabin, I looked forward to seeing her, to getting on each other’s nerves. To watch her cheeks flush with amusement and to hear her husky laugh. And now I wanted to feel her lips graze mine and to hear the soft sounds she made when I pleased her. To just be around her and have a thousand tomorrows with her.

These kinds of feelings had a name. I knew that. I didn’t know how long I’d felt this way or what woke me up to realize it, but none of that really mattered. Nothing was going to change that. It was just how I was wired internally. Once I felt something or made a decision, I stuck to it. The end.

And I’d made the decision to let Andrea come to me. As much as it killed me, I was sticking to it. There was something going on with her and I had a feeling it didn’t have anything to do with the anxiety attack she’d had. I wanted to be there for her, but she had to let me be there. I couldn’t force it. Shit never turned out well when you did it that way.

But the shit she’d said, about her not being worth it? It made it so damn hard to stay away, because how in the hell would I prove to her that she was very much worth it by staying away from her?

“Yo. Hammond?”

My head snapped up. Daniels was standing a few feet from me, arms crossed over the gray company shirt. “What?”

“Just making sure you’re alive over there.” He grinned. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it’s the hottest chick in this city.”

I rolled my eyes as I slipped my phone into my pocket and then sat back, stretching out my legs. “The phone’s more interesting than anything you’ve got to say.”

Daniels laughed. “You wound me, man. Freaking wound—”

Static crackled across the speakers a second before dispatch’s voice echoed through the fire hall. “Single motor vehicle accident with possible entrapment. EMT en route. Company 10 responding. Company 70 on standby.” The voice rattled off the location of the MVA. I stiffened.

The TV muted and conversation lulled. Our company had moved to standby. If they were going to call out more than one company, the accident had left a mess behind. Company 10 was obviously going to handle the entrapment. We’d cover traffic if necessary.

“Shit,” muttered Daniels as he dropped into the seat beside mine. “I hate accidents with entrapment.”

Very rarely did an accident involving entrapment end with the person walking out on their own two legs.

I nodded as another guy roamed into the room, pulling up his turnouts. I already had mine on. All on duty moved out to the truck and waited for further instructions. We were ready to roll out if dispatch moved us out of standby. The room was relatively silent as we waited to hear more. A handful of minutes passed.

“Entrapment confirmed. Company 10 is beginning extraction methods,” Dispatch announced, the voice monotone. “EMS on scene. Patient is unresponsive. Medevac 1 on standby. Company 70 remain on standby.”

Shit. I scrubbed my hand across my jaw. Calling on an air ambulance to move to standby wasn’t uncommon if there was entrapment, if the patient was unresponsive, and if they couldn’t get to the patient to assess the full extent of the injuries.

I exchanged a look with Daniels, and figured he was remembering the last extraction we’d done. It had been a kid and that call…yeah, that call hadn’t ended well. No one had walked away from it.

“Patient is out of vehicle…Priority 1.”

“Fuck,” I said, closing my eyes. Priority 1 meant there was basically a heartbeat, one code above Priority 0, which in other words, was a DRT—Dead Right There.

Another voice crackled out and then dispatch confirmed, “Patient is Priority 1. EMT on scene have stabilized for transport. Medevac 1 off standby.”

“That’s good,” murmured Daniels.

I nodded again and waited. If they were able to stabilize the person enough to transport via an ambulance, it was a good sign. Then again, it could also mean calling in the heli wasn’t going to do shit in the long run.

Eventually we were called off standby and the accident scene ended up being cleared by the other company. We got a call for a fire alarm at an apartment building that turned out to be a false alarm, and then we headed out to grab a bite. Once we returned back to the fire hall, one of the EMTs from another company swung by to drop off something to one of the other guys.

I was barely paying attention when I heard Daniels ask, “You were on that MVA call earlier, weren’t you?”

The EMT inclined his head. “Which one? I swear to God that’s all I’ve responded to tonight.”

“The Priority 1 call,” Daniels explained. “How’d that turn out?”

“Oh. The one out on 495? Man, they had a hell of a time getting the side off to get her out of that damn car,” the medic said. “We took her to Holy Cross. She had head injuries. Most likely internal ones. When we dropped her off, her pupils were still non-responsive.”

I pulled out my phone, thumbing through my contacts.

“Strangest damn thing.” the medic continued. “There was paint and summer sausage in the car. Weird combination.”

Daniels snorted. “That is weird. Was the patient young or old?”

“Early twenties, I think. State Police were handling the notification. Pretty girl. Face a little busted up from the airbag. Damn shame.” He rolled his shoulders, working out a kink. “There was no missing the smell of alcohol on her.”

Icy fingers trailed down my spine. There was no other way to explain it. It’s the same feeling when people say it feels like someone’s walking over their grave. My thumb stilled over my phone. “What kind of car was it?”

The medic glanced in my direction. “A Lexus. A dark gray or black one.”

No. No way.

Those icy fingers fisted in my gut. For a moment, I couldn’t move, and then I was standing, my finger hitting Andrea’s contact. I walked away from the group, ignoring Daniels calling out my name. Andrea’s phone rang until voicemail picked up. Could be a coincidence. It was late. I called again. No answer. I called once more, this time leaving a message, telling her to call me.

My heart started racing as I turned around. The guys were staring at me. “What…what did she look like?”

“I don’t know,” the medic said, frowning. “She was cute and—”

“What was the color of her hair?” I shouted.

Daniels rose. “Hammond, you okay?”

I stalked to the medic, my hand tightening around my phone. “What was the color of her hair?”

The medic’s eyes widened. “It was dark and there was blood, but I think it was red.”

The floor shifted under my feet. My heart stopped in my chest. I said something to them. I don’t even remember what I said, but I turned and walked outside. I called an older lady I knew, who was working that night in dispatch.

“Jodi?” I said, my voice hoarse. “It’s Tanner.”

“Hey, sweetie, what’s going on?” she asked.

“I…I need you to do me a favor, okay? I know it’s asking a lot, but please. There was a call tonight. A single MVA out on 495. A Priority 1 patient,” I said. “Have they identified the passenger yet?”

“I believe so.”

“What was her name?”

Jodi didn’t answer immediately. “Sweetie, you know I can’t give out that kind of info.”

I screwed my eyes shut and forced myself to take a deep, slow breath as I paced in front of the open bay doors. Daniels was nearby, but I couldn’t pay attention to him. “I know. I hate having to ask you this, but I think it’s someone I know—someone I care about.”

“Shit,” muttered Daniels.

Jodi made a soft sound. “Oh gosh, let me…let me see what I can find out. Okay? Can you wait for a moment?”

That moment was the longest fucking stretch of time in my life, and I prayed—fuck, I prayed—during those moments. Please not be Andrea. Please. That’s all I could think.

“You still there, Tanner?” Jodi returned. “I just talked to the trooper. Next of kin has been notified, so I feel…I feel okay with telling you who it was. Her name is Andrea Walters. She’s—”

“God. It’s her.” I bent over at the waist. “It’s her.”

“Oh no, sweetie, I’m sorry…”

Jodi’s voice faded out. I didn’t remember hanging up the phone, but suddenly Daniels was there, placing his hand on my shoulder. I straightened.

“Go,” Daniels said before I could say a word. “Get out of here and let me know when you can, okay?”

I was already halfway across the parking lot.

It was way past visiting hours when I showed up at Holy Cross, and it took a couple of minutes to find a nurse who knew me, who told me where to go, but warned I wouldn’t be allowed to see her. Intensive care unit, recently moved out of surgery.

Fucking surgery.

As I rode the elevator up, I kept telling myself that it could still be a mistake. It had to be one. It couldn’t be her. There was no way. Fuck. It couldn’t be her. She would never get behind the wheel of a car after drinking. It couldn’t be her.

The doors opened and I stepped out into the quiet hall. The nurses at the end didn’t pay much attention to me as I wheeled a right. Maybe it was because of my uniform. I didn’t care as I hurried down the chilled hall, looking above the windowless doors. I came to the end and turned left.

My feet stopped as if I’d stepped in cement.

Halfway down the hall, there was an older couple talking to a middle-aged doctor. The man was tall with brown hair and the woman was shorter with the deepest…the deepest red hair.

Both were pale as the doc reached out, clamping his hand on the man’s shoulder. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but the doctor spoke again, and the woman’s face crumpled as she placed her hand over her mouth.

The hall spun as I stumbled against the wall. My gaze traveled to the room beyond them. The door opened and a nurse stepped out. All I could see was a curtain and a hand—a pale, small hand. It wasn’t moving.

Fuck. I pressed the palm of my hand against my chest as the door drifted shut. Footsteps pounded up the hall, and I looked, recognizing the man who was only a year older than Andrea—her brother, Brody. He didn’t even see me as he rushed past, his flip-flops smacking like cracks of thunder.

I leaned against the wall as it hit me, really fucking slammed into me. She was in that room. It was Andrea. No fucking coincidences. No point to hope there was some kind of mistake. It was her. Pain lit up my chest like someone had planted a fist in it.

My knees gave out and I slid down the wall, my ass hitting the floor. I dropped my arms over my knees and just stared ahead. It was her.

It was Andrea.

Chapter 22

Andrea

The first breath I took burned and sent pain splintering throughout my chest and ribs. It hurt in a way that immediately forced my grimy-feeling eyes open. I winced at the harsh overhead lights in the drop ceiling. I tried to lift my hand to shield my eyes, but my arm felt like it was weighed down with lead.

Sit up. I needed to sit up, but as soon as I started that process, a sharp stabbing sensation shot across my abdomen, causing me to exhale harshly. Okay. I would not move.

A shadow moved closer to the bed, and as I blinked, a form took shape. Dad. My father was leaning over me. Deep shadows were grooved into the skin under his eyes. Taut lines formed around his mouth. His brown hair was a mess, as if he’d shoved his fingers through it many times. He hadn’t shaved. When was the last time I’d seen him unshaven? Goodness, it had to be back when he still…he still drank.

Oh my God.

I had been drinking and—

“Honey, you awake?” Dad sat on the edge of the bed, and I realized his shirt was wrinkled. So were his khakis. Actually, he was wrinkled. “Andrea?”

I forced my tongue off the roof of my mouth. “Yeah.”

He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long and low breath. “You’ve been asleep for over a day. I know it’s normal after these kinds of injuries, but I didn’t want to leave this room until you opened your eyes. Your mother is going to be so upset to know she decided to pick up food for us at this exact moment. Are you in pain?”

Pain? Everything hurt—my stomach and my head, even my hand. My gaze drifted to my right hand and I suspected the giant, freaking I.V. hooked up to it was the culprit.

“Injuries?” I rasped out.

Dad reached out, picking up my left hand in his cool one. He squeezed gently. “You hit your head pretty hard. It’s a concussion. And you’re pretty banged up, but the…” He squeezed my hand again. “Your spleen ruptured. There was no saving it. It had to be removed, and you needed a blood transfusion. Without a spleen, there are going to be some complications. Issues with fighting off infections and…”

He continued on, but I wasn’t really hearing him any longer. My spleen had burst and I no longer had one. Blood transfusion? A concussion? My mind raced back to the car, to the seconds before I heard the metal crunching and giving way.

“Did I hit someone?” I blurted out, ignoring the raw pain in my throat. “Did I hurt someone?”

Dad stopped and he stared at me so long that panic built in my chest. “Oh my God,” I croaked. “Did I hit someone? Did I? Oh God, I can’t—”

“You didn’t hit anyone, Andrea.” His throat worked as he stared down at me. “You hit a barrier wall on 495.”

Only a smidgen of relief filtered through my system. I didn’t hit someone. That was good, but I could’ve hit someone. Oh God, I could’ve killed someone.

“They ran a blood test. You were over the legal limit,” he continued, his voice rough at the edges, brittle. “You were drinking and driving.”

Pressure increased as those words settled in, seeped through the confusion and took root. I’d drunk and drove. Had I done that before? Never. I’d always waited at least an hour or more before I drove. I always made sure.

Oh my God.

Dad let go of my hand and his gaze moved to the blinds over the window. “I’ve failed you.”

His words jarred me. “Dad—you didn’t fail me. This… this was all me. I…did this.” Truer words had never been spoken. Tears rolled down my face. “I did this.”

He shook his head. “Your mother and I, even your brother, knew you drank. We kept telling ourselves that it wasn’t that bad. That you weren’t like me. That you wouldn’t become like me. We were wrong.” His gaze shifted to mine, and I saw that his stare was glassy. “I was wrong, but I will not let you become me.”

The pressure was increasing, and it was becoming hard to breathe. In the background, I could hear the beeps from the heart monitor increasing. It wasn’t just the drinking, I wanted to scream at him, but there were no words.

“And that’s why we’re stepping in right now,” he continued doggedly. “As soon as you’re well enough to leave the hospital, you’re going into treatment. That’s not up for discussion. If you say no or you fight me on this—” His voice cracked, and my shoulders shook. “I will completely cut you off.”

I could barely breathe. Not because my family was forcing me into treatment. Not because all choice had been stripped away from me. No. I could barely get enough air into my lungs because I had made such a reckless, irresponsible decision. Not just one, but years’ worth of them, and they all had been building and piling up on one another. I could’ve hurt someone—killed them. This was no longer just about me. This…this was out of control.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

I completely understood.

Before I’d left the bar, I had realized that I needed to change, and now more than ever I knew this. I wasn’t going to fight this. Not now. I met my father’s blue eyes and then his face blurred.

“Dad…” The tears rushed me, heedless of the sting they caused when they hit the incredibly raw splotches on my face. “There’s something really wrong with me.”

“I’m really proud of you.”

My gaze shifted away from where Syd was perched on the edge of my bed. It was a day after I’d woken up in the hospital. I still hurt something fierce. “You shouldn’t…be proud of me.”

“Why not?”

I stared at the ceiling. “I drank and then I drove. I could’ve…” Absolutely disgusted with myself, I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

“I’m not proud that you did that,” she said. “But I’m proud that you’re getting help.”

Closing my eyes, I sort of wished I was asleep. “It was my dad’s idea.”

“You could’ve fought it.”

“He threatened to cut me off if I did,” I told her, also wishing I had another blanket. It was chilly in there. “You know me. I like all my perks. Can’t have that—”

“Knock it off,” Syd snapped, drawing my attention. Her cheeks flushed with anger. “I talked to your dad. You didn’t even try to fight it. Not one second. You know you need help. I’m proud that you’re making that decision, so why are you acting this way?”

Why? Because I didn’t deserve her kind words, and I sure as hell didn’t deserve anyone to be proud of me. “I drank and I drove. I totaled my car. I don’t…have a spleen anymore. I’m a loser. I’m going to have to go to court and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my license. I’m not complaining. I deserve that.”

My ass actually deserved to be in jail, and who knew, I might just end up there.

“Andrea…” She sighed as she tilted her head. A long length of dark hair fell over her shoulder. “You’re not a loser. You—”

“I need help. I know.” The wall I’d erected since my father left crumbled a smidgen. “I know.”

Her lower lip trembled as she patted my hand. “When Tanner called and told us what’d happened, I thought my heart had stopped.”

Tanner.

Now my heart stopped. This morning when my brother stopped by, he’d told me he’d seen Tanner the night I was brought in. At first, I’d thought that Tanner had responded to the accident, but Brody had ended up talking to him. Tanner had heard the call go out, but didn’t realize until later that it had been me. When he had, he’d come straight to the hospital.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, her voice wavering.

I squeezed my eyes shut again.

Several moments passed. “Kyler would’ve come with me, but I figured you probably didn’t want a whole party in here.” She paused. “Tanner wants to see you.”

“I don’t want to see him,” I said immediately.

“He is so—”

“I can’t.” I looked at her then. “Please. I can’t see him right now. I don’t want to see him right now. I can’t…I can’t deal with that.”

It was bad enough that Tanner had already been there. According to Brody, he’d actually been in this room while I’d been asleep. Embarrassment and hopelessness were an ugly, dark mixture inside me. Seeing him would break me, and I was barely holding it together. I knew I had disappointed my family. Severely. And even though Syd said she was proud of me, I knew she was also dismayed.

Syd smiled weakly. “Okay. I can respect that. I know he will.”

And he would. Tanner was a good guy. He wouldn’t push it. If Syd told him I didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t show. Now more than ever I knew I wasn’t…I wasn’t worthy of someone like him. I was pretty sure my actions put me in the lowest of the low, like pond scum. Except pond scum probably had a purpose, and what was my purpose? To screw stuff up?

If so, I was exceeding expectations.

The morning I was discharged from the hospital, it was so hot that I swore I saw steam wafting off the asphalt. It was a typical August morning, except nothing was normal about that day.

I wasn’t sure if anything would be normal again.

Only my dad and mom were present as I was wheeled out. No balloons or smiling faces. There really wasn’t anything to celebrate, and I wasn’t going home. I guessed it was a good thing I hadn’t gotten a pet.

Getting into the backseat was harder than I thought since my tummy was still sore. On the seat beside me was my suitcase. Mom had packed for me. We wouldn’t even be stopping at my apartment.

The ride to the treatment center was quiet, and I was okay with that. I didn’t want to make small talk, to pretend that everything was okay. And I don’t think my parents wanted to pretend either.

The center was outside the city, near Frederick, and in the middle of a long stretch of nothing. We took an exit I’d never even paid attention to before in any of my travels, and it took a good twenty minutes before the car hung a right. We passed a large sign with the words THE BROOK inscribed in the stone.

My first impression of the treatment center when we crested a hill was that my dad got the place wrong. This didn’t look like a rehab. Oh hell no. With the rolling, manicured hills surrounding a massive, rancher-style complex, the visible tennis court, and what appeared to be a pool the size of a house, it screamed country club and not rock bottom.

Dad followed the road up and under a large awning. The entry reminded me of a hotel. Taking a deep breath, I glanced at my dad. His gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. He nodded, and I suddenly wanted to cry—wanted to throw myself on the seat and not move. But Mom climbed out of the car and opened the back door. There would be no throwing myself on the seat.

I eased out of the car, my wide eyes focused on the glass doors. My heart was pounding. Mom reached between us, threading her fingers through mine. I shuffled forward, my steps slow as my father joined us, my suitcase in his hand.

Cool air greeted us as we stepped inside a large atrium. Up ahead was a reception desk, again reminding me of a hotel. My father walked forward, stopping to speak with the woman.

“It’s going to be okay,” my mom whispered.

Doubtful.

I dragged in a deep breath and dull pain flared across my bruised ribs. A tremor rolled through me, and my knees shook as Dad wheeled around. His eyes met mine. To the left of the reception area, a door opened and a man stepped out.

He looked like he was in his mid-thirties, and he was rocking a mad pair of hipster, black-rimmed glasses that were as dark as his hair. He wasn’t dressed like someone who worked here, not with his khaki shorts and sandaled feet.

“Andrea Walters?” He smiled at me in a pleasant way.

I jerked and glanced at my dad, then my mom. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

“My name is Dave Proby. Please follow me.” He glanced at my parents. “You may also come.”

My fingers were numb and tingly as we followed him into a small room beyond the door. There was another exit on the other side, the window glazed over. We weren’t alone.

A nurse was waiting. In her hands was a blood pressure cuff.

Holy crap, this was like an episode of Intervention.

“Sit.” Dave gestured at the green upholstered chair next to the desk.

Nervous, I did as he requested. My parents remained just inside the room. The nurse approached me, smiling gently. “I just need to take your blood pressure, hon.”

I had no idea if that was normal or not, but I stuck out my arm as she asked, “Do you take any medication?”

Mouth dry, I nodded as Mom spoke up. “I brought her purse. She has sleeping pills and anxiety medication.” She opened the purse and rummaged around until she found the three bottles. The nurse took them while I sat there, feeling like…well, a thousand different things. “And there are the meds the hospital has her on.”

I felt incredibly small as the nurse looked over the bottles. My skin was uncomfortable and itchy as she placed them on the desk, stacking them up like a three-person red-bottled army. I wanted to shoot out of my chair and grab the bottles, throwing them through the little window, even the antibiotics.

Dave didn’t speak until the nurse scribbled down my results and then handed them over to him. He sat in a small desk chair and picked up a pen. Twirling it between his fingers, he glanced over a file. “Do you have a cellphone with you?”

“Yes.”

Without looking at me, he extended his arm and wiggled his fingers. “Hand it over.”

I stared at his hand for a moment.

He wiggled his fingers again. “Sorry. For the first two weeks, you will have absolutely no contact with the outside world—no internet, no phone.”

My eyes widened. I was going to go stir crazy. “It’s…it’s in my purse.”

A second later, Mom had it and dropped it in Dave’s hand. I glanced up at her, seeing lines around her eyes I’d never noticed before. Dave put my phone next to the bottles. Then he swiveled his chair toward me. “Do you know why you’re here, Andrea?” he asked finally.

I thought that was a pointless question. “I…” I closed my eyes briefly. My cheeks stung. “I have…a drinking problem.”

He inclined his head. “Is that the only problem you have?”

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head no.

“Do you know why you drink?”

Mute, I shook my head again, but it felt like a lie.

Dave looked at me and then turned a pointed stare on the bottles lined up on the desk. “I think you do, Andrea, but you’re not ready to say those words. That’s okay. My job is to get you to not only say them, but to understand and accept them.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “Are you ready to do this? To accept help?”

I sucked in a shaky breath and my voice cracked when I spoke. “Yes.”

“Perfect. That’s all I need to hear,” he said, his bespectacled stare holding mine. “You’ve fought bravely this entire time, but you’ve lost this fight, Andrea. The good news is that you haven’t lost the war. And you’ll no longer have to fight this war alone.”